<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Big and Bruised by Etnoe</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180761">Big and Bruised</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/pseuds/Etnoe'>Etnoe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove Lives, Feral Behavior, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, ToT: Battle of the Bands</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/pseuds/Etnoe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What's left of Billy Hargrove is found very far from where it ought to be: back in California. Steve is one of the best placed people in their little group to help pick up the pieces from this bizarre resurrection ... he hopes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Trick or Treat Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Big and Bruised</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiumwaits/gifts">elysiumwaits</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I took some inspiration from "It Will Come Back" by Hozier for this one.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve was a Ghostbuster. "Who you gonna call?" he murmured as he cradled the phone receiver, harbinger of doom, to his chest. That's right: He was it.</p><p>By some kind of literal miracle, though, this incident wouldn't involve a ghost, because <em>Billy Hargrove was alive</em>.</p><p>And Max and her dad needed help with him. A kick of adrenaline set Steve's heart racing. Max seriously thought he was the person to help deal with this? Why had she picked his name out of the hat of everyone she knew?</p><p>Then the plastic of the phone squeaked in his grip as his own doubt made indignation well up in him. The poor freaking kid shouldn't have to do this without backup that knew the score - there had to be emotional stuff to deal with on top of the government-science-gone-loco stuff, considering it involved her stepbrother. Steve was someone with experience of Hawkins-related weirdness, who had access to money and few responsibilities, who could drive and could land a good hit. He could totally help. Max might have called because she knew he'd be glad she did it, once he gave it a minute.</p><p>He put the phone on the cradle, its dial tone finally registering as annoying. Well, his first step in response to this emergency was clear: Make a resolution to never, ever mention his Ghostbusters moment out loud, because his nerd friends continued to be nerdy enough that they'd stick him in a costume at first opportunity. And he'd thought the words 'harbinger of doom'! Video games really did rot the brain.</p><p>Second step: buying the soonest possible plane ticket to San Diego, California.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The most important of the early steps in the process, however, was freaking out at Robin. </p><p>"Holy shit!" she whisper-screamed while kind of flailing through a circuit of his room, several times, so that Steve had time to make himself keep packing for the trip. "Hargrove <em>is</em> the Terminator. He is bahck."</p><p>Steve pulled a face. "Don't call him that, I can feel his ego growing from here. Did you seriously call him that?"</p><p>"With the accent and everything," Robin confirmed. "It was because of that Halloween party, remember, from right after they'd moved here? He went as the Terminator, and after that he became a horror story for every nerd and band geek in school ... Little did we know."</p><p>They had a moment of silence, Steve solemnly pausing with his hand resting on a pile of socks. The horror story of Summer 1985 had left the whole of Hawkins standing around new graves.</p><p>"What the hell am I walking into?" Steve groaned, and then wadded all the socks into his suitcase. The walking was going to go as well as he could make it.</p><p>"The better question is, do I buy my own ticket right away, or do I pay you back?" Robin said. "It's just another two days till it's spring break for me, so I wouldn't miss anything important."</p><p>In the silence that followed and grew, their eyes met, and they both went to sit on Steve's bed.</p><p>"If we run away to California together, everybody's basically going to expect us to come back married," Steve said. "It's going to be bad enough explaining this credit card bill to my parents as it is. No way are you using your college fund, either. Robin, thank you, but..."</p><p>"This better not justify all your lingering paranoia about this Upside Down bullshit, OK?" Robin said. "Or mine, God, I've had enough nightmares. Everything better end up fine. I mean, this is a good thing. If someone could come back out of that disaster... Wow."</p><p>Their hands tangled together. Robin was a great person to be scared with. When his hand got shaky with nerves she could match it with a gross story of stage fright and hands clammy enough for instruments to almost slip out of. He could be scared and question his own determination, and they could talk through the pros and cons without hiding anything. They exchanged stories of Billy Hargrove, too, and that was when Robin started helping him finish up packing. Neither of them had liked the guy, but still, the one story about him they had experienced together had stuck with them painfully and strangely. It would be nice to turn a shared nightmare to something better once again. That was kind of their thing.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>El and Joyce marched up to him right as he was about to join the check-in queue for his flight from Indianapolis International.</p><p>It took Steve a few seconds to remember to straighten up from the slight crouch of reaching for the handle of his suitcase, knees and back bent, arm hovering. First because of the unexpectedness, then because of the additional surprise of seeing the army supply-looking backpack El had hanging off her shoulders. It was huge, it was stuffed, and it was meant for travelling with.</p><p>"Max called me too," El explained. There was a world of resolution in it.</p><p>"So we had to make a plane ticket happen, and luckily, you know--" she mouthed <em>the pay-outs</em>; the evil scientist side of the government was good for something, sometimes. "And Max mentioned what flight you were catching. Can't leave a party member behind," Joyce said. Then she attacked. The hug was wholehearted.</p><p>Both of them were out to get him sniffling, because El's hand slipped into his free one. She'd grown up a ton since he'd last seen her, and he knew that the Party had given her lectures that touched on how she was too old and cool for that, which left Steve unsure whether he or Max was the party member being supported. It was a nice type of uncertainty, for a change.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Poor Max Mayfield's dad. The guy looked so relieved to lay eyes on Steve that it almost kicked off a reflex to tell him to dial it back, <em>show enthusiasm but, be careful, do not tip over into desperation</em>, as if this was Dustin in need of a refresher on the ins and outs of acting cool.</p><p>"Over here! Steve Harrington! Max showed me a photo of you. My car's this way. OK, this is great, we are <em>so</em> glad you could come and, ahh, give some input? Yeah. God. You have a good flight?"</p><p>He was no Hopper or Bob Newby when it came to Upside Down problems, it seemed. The stress was making him alternate between tugging at his collar and jamming his hands into his jean pockets, and he hadn't yet realised that El was tagging along on purpose, instead of being a random traveller heading their way by coincidence.</p><p>Did he look like he was drinking again? Steve wondered. That information about the man was second or third hand, depending on who exactly Dustin had inflicted his nosiness on. The sandy hair was on the long side, but the cut looked like a matter of style, maybe a hippie holdover. Overall he was mussed, but his clothes were clean and normal. Couldn't blame a guy for not ironing his shirt if his kid's step-brother appeared out of nowhere and might have changed species to 'monster'.</p><p>What made Steve feel hopeful was introducing Mr Mayfield to Jane Eleanor Hopper. The guy lit up, in a different way to the relief of earlier - like it was a fantastic surprise to have yet another teen dropped into his life.</p><p>"Hey, you're the friend! The best friend! I've seen pictures of you too. Max is going to go nuts! I'm glad you came along too, kiddo. El, right? It's OK if I call you that? Hey, would you want to have a sleepover with her? Tonight, tomorrow, whatever."</p><p>Mr Mayfield was clearly trying to look out for Max - a good sign. </p><p>"Yes! And. I've got a letter." El dug in a side pocket of her backpack, then presented the resultant envelope. "Joyce. My guardian. I don't mean to impose, but I really, really, really want to help."</p><p>Steve put an arm around her shoulders. "She surprised me too, or I would have called and let you know when we were arranging things. But it's cool, the place I'm renting has two bedrooms, remember."</p><p>Mr Mayfield got this wide-eyed look. "Ffffudge," he said, with a lot of feeling. It was sort of sweet of him to give the censoring a shot, though he was hilarious amounts of late to save even El's vocabulary. "I mean, part of the reason I thought that renting the two-bedroom place was a good idea was so that..." He swallowed visibly, jaw clenched, and skipped some details with a wave of his hand that ended in another tug at his collar. "...A room for you, a room for Billy."</p><p>Right. Steve had also thought that might end up being part of the arrangement. Because he was the one meant to handle that. He wanted to be, right, to help keep Max safe? Sure, OK, but this still involved Hargrove. Now the guy was as much of a boogeyman as the kids used to treat him as, and Steve had yet to make a new weapon to make up for the nailbat he didn't want to take on the plane.</p><p>"Makes sense!" he said. "I was thinking that's how it would be in the first place, so ... yeah!"</p><p>El had taken his hand again, and Steve gave it a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back and smiled at him, only a little grim.</p><p>He didn't realise that the three of them had fallen quiet until they'd reached the parking lot, and he decided to act like a tourist as his excuse. Check out those palm trees! Sure did look West Coast.</p><p>Mr Mayfield broke the silence once they were all strapped in, as he pulled the car into the exit lane. "You know Billy well, Steve?"</p><p>"Oh ... yeah! I mean, he moved to town in my senior year, and we only spent a lot of time together when we were still at school, but ... I'll tell you what, there's nobody like Billy Hargrove." Slather a layer of <em>you get it, right?</em> laughter on top of that and your average parent would be none the wiser.</p><p>"There's no Billy Hargrove," Mr Mayfield said viciously.</p><p>Oh. Was he an asshole after all? That brought the silence back.</p><p>Steve glanced in the rear-view mirror, and El's frown kind of worried him - but nothing in or around the car back-flipped without visible reason, so he didn't say anything.</p><p>Maybe Mr Mayfield picked up on their reaction anyway, because he seemed to get angrier as they drove. Steve was still playing up the tourist thing - it was kind of fun, seeing the sheer number of people all over the place, finding a little appreciation and sometimes astonishment for their summer outfits - but he caught the tight way Mr Mayfield held himself, the occasional noises of frustration made in his throat. By the time they pulled up to a house, the guy slammed the car door and hauled their bags forcefully out of the trunk, and was halfway to the house before El and Steve had done more than open their doors.</p><p>Getting inside the house was startling for the contrast: Suddenly, everything was done quietly. As their bags were lowered the living room floor, Steve realised that most of the sounds he could hear filtered in from outside - the noises of passing cars, shrill children's laughter, a radio or two. Then Mr Mayfield waved at him and El to follow him through the living room, to a door at the back of the house.</p><p>Mr Mayfield tapped the door with his fingertips and opened it without waiting for a response, wide enough to show Max sitting on a chair right by the entrance.</p><p>She lit up even more than her dad on seeing Steve and El - but the only noises she made was a squeak of excitement and jumping up quickly enough to make her chair scrape on the floor. Steve put his back into the group hug, although he couldn't help keeping his eyes fixed on the darkness of the room she'd exited.</p><p>Clearing his throat, Mr Mayfield opened the door wider. He waved at them to go in, and Max took them by the arms and tugged them along. "Sh, OK?" she said.</p><p>There was nothing to be seen, and then Mr Mayfield stepped in behind them and said, softly, "Your friends are here."</p><p>Billy flinched.</p><p>He was big, even bigger than before - in the dimness it had looked like he was furniture, pressed up against the wall like that, surrounded by a heap of junk. All his size meant was that the muscular bulk of him worked really hard to fit better into the corner. His eyes - glowing, greenish-yellow - flicked to where Steve stood with the kids, then focused back on Mr Mayfield and didn't waver.</p><p>Steve looked at Mr Mayfield again, up and down to see anything besides the obvious, but the man was still skinny aside from a paunch, tall but giving the impression that he wasn't. Nothing intimidating at all.</p><p>"He's been no trouble," Mr Mayfield said. He gave Steve a long look; he was definitely angry, but not <em>at</em> Billy. "Maybe you could get him to be some kind of trouble again, man." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and walked away down the corridor.</p><p>Steve made sure of where he turned in so they could talk about what to do next, and looked back to Billy. There was a sigh as the hunched-up form sagged, and then Billy dragged a blanket from the junk he huddled in and pulled it over his head. With Steve's eyes adjusted to the level of light, it looked like it was all soft stuff. A collapsed pillow fort? A nest?</p><p>Max pulled them out, her fingernails digging into Steve's arm in a way he figured was involuntary, and closed the door behind them.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Nighttime brought the twenty-ninth step or so in this particular emergency. It wasn't anywhere near as awkward as it could have been.</p><p>"Hey, Billy, you want to come over here and say hi to King Nancy? You were probably pretty into it when she <em>shot you down</em> that time, remember?"</p><p>Zero reaction from the monster man with his eyes pressed against his knees, in the corner of his bedroom that was furthest from the window.</p><p>The blinds were shut throughout the apartment, and Steve had taken blankets from the wardrobe in his bedroom and tucked one into the railings of Billy's window and another at the closest window outside that room. Steve had also taken every cushion in the apartment to arrange around the corner of the bedroom Billy had crawled into, in case the nest was necessary somehow. </p><p>"Oh my God," Nancy breathed. The phone connection crackled.</p><p>"So, um, yeah," Steve said. He hoped that was all secretive enough that whatever government agency might be tapping every phone line everywhere wouldn't descend with submachine guns. "That would be the development that's taken me out west so suddenly! Pretty wild. Uh. Yeah. Billy's not making it to the phone right now. It's OK. Could be going better, but..." Well? What's reassuring at times like these? "Baby steps! Right? And also me making you be the one to tell the other kids about this."</p><p>"Max knows, right?" Nancy said urgently.</p><p>"Yeah, it's cool, Max is the one who got in touch about it. And she told El and the Byerses."</p><p>A pause. "Dustin will skin you alive if you don't personally tell him you skipped town."</p><p>"He's got a soft spot for you! Come on, could you get the three of them all together? That way maybe I'll feel less of the big, sad, betrayed eyes all the way from over here."</p><p>"Steve." That was a get-down-to-business kind of tone. "Before I can tell anyone what happened, I'll need to know myself."</p><p>"El's sister found him - apparently she's following up a bunch of leads, like, all across the country. Then she looked up the Mayfields ... even though Billy isn't the most talkative person anymore. Maybe he wrote the address down or something? So Max asked if I could come help figure things out. It's been one huge rush. Max and El worked on Joyce so El could fly in too. She's hanging out with Max. And I'm hanging out with Billy."</p><p>There was the pregnant pause of having a lot to say. Steve passed the time by digging a hand through his hair. They were going to have to figure out a secretive way to exchange payphone numbers to have a private conversation, or decide that they didn't care about potential phone-tapping.</p><p>"Steve? Call me if you're not doing all right. OK? Whatever that means in this situation. Call immediately," Nancy instructed. "I'll work something out."</p><p>He wanted advice, he wanted a friend with him, he wanted to go back to calling that guy in there Hargrove as they did the exact opposite of sharing this nice holiday apartment near the beach. He wanted to know if right now there was less Billy in that body or more than when the Mind Flayer had controlled him, and he wanted to know that immediately and call Max with a quick and easy answer. He'd settle for calling Mr Mayfield, if it came to that. It should be possible to tell him that yes, there is a Billy Hargrove, you have to really go nuts to get that piece of shit down for so much as a second.</p><p>He had Nancy's offer, instead. So he'd better promise that he'd call the second it became necessary, before she picked between whether she would beg her parents for flight money or to try and get Robin to knock over a gas station together in order to buy tickets for both of them, probably convincing Jonathan to join in along the way.</p><p>It was something to depend on.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>For the rest of that day, from the afternoon and into the evening, all night and through to the morning, it was Steve and Billy. City noises outside and two sets of breathing in the apartment, some sighs long and shuddering, some tired.</p><p>Only one of them was staring. As Steve dozed on and off in the living room, jet lag keeping him on the seriously uncomfortable, de-cushioned couch but not enough to keep him under, he never saw the glow of Billy's eyes looking back. In a dreamy way, he thought that it was only the dark that kept both of them company, since they couldn't figure it out with each other.</p><p> </p><p>- </p><p> </p><p>No overnight breakthrough happened. For lack of solving all their problems instantly, Steve started getting the apartment ready for company.</p><p>Yesterday, as he and the others had outlined their plan of tossing blankets over Billy, hustling his limp and shivering form into the car, and hoping that the neighbours didn't wonder 'what the fuck' too loudly, they'd also arranged that the Mayfields and El would visit at around 12:00. They were bringing lunch, so Steve didn't have to worry about stocking the fridge yet, but the thing was, nobody but Steve would be willing to sit on the couch - the cushion-less couch-frame. Did you call it a frame? Whatever. He needed the couch cushions back.</p><p>He stalled by Billy's door. It seemed mean to take any of that stuff back.</p><p>Seriously? he asked himself. Mean - compared to being dragged into the Upside Down and staying there, keeping company with every nightmare Hawkins had ever had, while turning into a mutant?</p><p>"Billy."</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>"Hope you slept well and all. But I have to take back the couch cushions. Maybe some of the throw pillows, too. Judging by decorating styles that my parents have tried out over the years, minimalism isn't really my style, I like having some pep around the place.</p><p>"I'm coming in, OK?"</p><p>Now, Billy watched. Every slow and well-telegraphed movement got tracked by hunter's eyes, until Steve was battling to keep his breathing even.</p><p>Luckily he hit on something to distract himself with as he was pulling the second couch cushion out of the nest, and deciding to leave the third since it seemed to be under Billy, from what he could tell past a tangle of sheets and blankets. It seemed like a bad idea to start smelling of fear, whatever that might mean.</p><p>"Oh, hey, I should have told you. Max and her dad and El are coming by. Since we're roommates now, I guess I have to tell you these things. I'm gonna have to get used to having a roommate. I was thinking about sharing with Robin when she's at college, you know?" After your school career was disrupted and any future plans put on hold so you could live in hell instead? "Yeah, so, I'm still getting the etiquette down.</p><p>"Anyway, bet Max would like to see you," Steve said. "If you want to come out from under all of that in a few hours."</p><p>When the others came over, right before they knocked and Max started calling for him, Billy moved for the first time. Which Steve only realised as he caught the motion of Billy's bedroom door swinging shut.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>El couldn't peer into Billy's mind - she was trying as hard as she could to work on her powers, but her battery was still drained. She did say that she'd be happy just to talk to him, but decided, after staring at the closed door, that she'd wait until he felt ready.</p><p>Max spent a visit barely saying a word, expression tight, and then on the one after that, handed over a box filled with the kind of cassettes Billy used to listen to, that she'd bought with her allowance. Mr Mayfield donated a radio with a tape deck to the cause. Sure, that could work - the doors in the apartment were flimsy enough that music could be heard through one without being loud enough to bug the neighbours.</p><p>Dustin, after he'd finished yelling, became like a telemarketer for 3 Musketeers, since apparently you couldn't know how far a love of chocolate bars might have permeated the Upside Down hive mind. Fine, Jesus; those could be left on a little side table moved to outside the bedroom door.</p><p>Will said he couldn't help, and he was so, so sorry, but he didn't know about this, how it worked, what might have happened to Billy, what changes had come to the Upside Down to make this possible... So Steve told him about renting a car and feeling like a dumbass on the city roads, and encouraged him to go to his driving lessons with Jonathan, and talked movies with him, and whispered that he thought simply hearing normal human voices might help Billy.</p><p>To his surprise, Will whispered back that that made sense. He'd just been trying to distract the kid. Great, now he'd have to talk into thin air a lot so Billy could hear.</p><p>That was the hard part of watching Billy - the only way this whole situation required effort. Like Mr Mayfield had wished he could deal with his kid's delinquent stepbrother instead, Steve wished he could have fought something or someone. He only told Max and Robin about that. Everyone else got the "baby steps" treatment, like he was hopeful. Max might have told El, too, but maybe not; El really did want to be hopeful about Billy.</p><p>He knocked on Billy's bedroom door a few times as the days passed. Three times he'd been ignored, twice Billy had knocked back harder. Possibly with his entire body, the door shuddering beneath it. Terrifying, but then he had been silent again afterwards.</p><p>Most of Steve's attention went to locating payphones, in case of real emergencies or secrets, and figuring out the time difference so he could give Robin updates. He drove around too, sometimes, and went to the beach - what else was he supposed to do, just sit in the apartment?</p><p>But he did keep thinking: There's no Billy Hargrove.</p><p>As he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, as he took out Max and El, as he pictured the guy he'd known walking around the city. Billy would have fit in there, on the beach - maybe with the surfers, or the volleyball game - there in that scuffle in a parking lot, there in the car getting obnoxiously revved at the red light, there by the lamppost to have a smoke while Max tore up the skate park.</p><p>Nope. There's no Billy Hargrove, remember?</p><p>He did not want to think about it. Was it a good sign that he couldn't stop? It might be a sign of the kind of person he'd tried to become - but really, it seemed like a better idea not to have a permanent pit in his stomach.</p><p>Fear, he could have handled. He'd travelled halfway across the country while believing there was a great chance he might literally end up chewed on. That kind of thing could be planned for. There was finding out what would happen and what you could do, and the tiny but hard-to-resist lure of pushing things further, and people to rest with afterwards. Being scared would be a better reason for feeling hollow than the growing certainty that Billy Hargrove, massive jackass who lived to get in everybody's face and draw every eye, was reduced to a skin over something that didn't count as even an animal.</p><p>And it would be better than the way Steve stayed sure, for some stupid reason, that this was his problem.</p><p>He drove around until it was not dark enough - this must be what people meant by light pollution - and then went home. It would be darker in the apartment, especially since he had a suspicion that Billy ... made that happen. By magic, or whatever.</p><p>Which could be a dumb theory that everyone from Erica to Robin would poke holes in, but the Upside Down had clearly done something to him. Maybe a lot of things. Who knew? If Billy could wrap himself up in enough of a shadow to turn scary after all, Steve ought to be there watching for it.</p><p>It had been a week since he'd flown out here. That made about two weeks since Kali's gang had started sniffing out new rumours about government labs and had somehow found Billy. Two weeks of being <em>that</em>. And it was actually like a year, including what had happened back home. Before the monsters came into it, there was the stuff with his dad that Max had talked about when her mother got divorced from Neil Hargrove...</p><p>Usually when Steve got into the apartment, the keys got hung on a handy hook near the door, he'd switch on one or two lights so that he could see without making the apartment too bright, and he'd turn down the radio that served as a normal voice when he was out of the apartment, or go to the bathroom, or get a snack, whatever.</p><p>This time he strode across the living room and dropped the keys on the table by Billy's room. He grabbed a handful of chocolate bars and went in, and dropped to the floor next the nest. It didn't smell bad, not like Billy was living and sweating in there literally all day - and it was hot out here, there should have been a funk in the air.</p><p>There's no Billy Hargrove.</p><p>"What are we going to do, man?" Steve glanced at the stretched-out lump under the blankets. He hadn't seen his roommate the monster man properly the whole time he'd been in San Diego. "What the hell are we going to do?</p><p>"Do I sign you up for a shrink? You'd just end up--" He took a huge bite out of a chocolate bar, chewed with his cheeks bulging. "Other doctors involved. Bad idea. They'd drag you away. A lab. El wouldn't let me in the first place.</p><p>"Yoga on the beach? That includes meditation, seen people at it. Calming. Plus it's exercise, that's a thing with you. Then it's just the question of getting you outside and, oh yeah, making sure nobody decides you're an escapee from a horror movie.</p><p>"We could go back to Hawkins..."</p><p>Steve finished off the chocolate bar, got halfway through another before he made himself continue. "There's a half-wrecked cabin out in the woods. Your name on it."</p><p>That was probably the answer.</p><p>"We fix it up. And then ... just you, alone out there. Everybody else with a job, school. Kids keeping an eye on you, probably. Otherwise? A hermit. A simple, quiet life! Exactly what you've always wanted, I'm sure."</p><p>He licked his fingers clean, then said, "Hargrove," to remind himself of who this was supposed to be. That speech <em>should</em> have netted him a stupid, violent catastrophe, or Billy acting like sucking up all his air from an inch away was intimidating, and probably a lot of that tongue thing. Maybe that had also been meant as an intimidation tactic.</p><p>What Steve remembered most right now was that they'd steered clear of each other for months, after that night in November and before the Mind Flayer's return. Wrestling with the thirty-foot nightmare ought to be the top haunting image, but all of that was halfway to being a hangover blur of truth serum and adrenaline.</p><p>Instead he kept turning over thoughts about how Billy had stopped picking on Max, the guys, and him. There had been no reason for Billy to be a lunatic towards everybody in the first place, so it was nothing to be grateful for, but it had been possible to think Billy had learned something. It had reinforced restless, late-night hopes that people in general could change. Now the simple, ongoing choice to fuck off and stop being a huge dick had evaporated along with the person who'd made it, and...</p><p>"This blows. It's weird, and it seriously blows," Steve said, and kept sitting there, head in his hands.</p><p>Billy handed him another 3 Musketeers bar.</p><p>When something touched him, sharp but with give to it, Steve sucked in a breath. Unmoving, until he opened his eyes with care. It was the corner of a chocolate wrapper. It prodded the back of his hand again. Because Billy had crawled out to crouch in front of him.</p><p>Big. That was still the first impression to come to mind. <em>Too</em> big, though Billy had always been built. He wasn't jacked in the way Steve remembered, but though he was leaner he still felt like he loomed.</p><p>Other details became clearer as Billy leaned in to look at him. They studied each other, Steve seeing a dark spread of bruising on his face, the matted tangle of his hair, and his eyes looking more deep-set than they used to be.</p><p>The look Steve got at the same time was something that struck him, too. Stubble should not amount to a reason for this much staring, absorbed and intense, and it was the biggest change to his appearance.</p><p>Steve wasn't thinking 'hunter' this time - an offer of candy felt more Little Red Riding Hood than Big Bad Wolf. He thought that Billy was as nervous as he was.</p><p>He turned over his hand, wrapped his fingers around the chocolate. Billy pushed it at him, and kept staring as Steve ate nibble by nibble. It was just as well he had barely tasted the other two, but he wasn't in a hurry to have more.</p><p>Billy drew in a breath long enough to make him look even bigger, shoulders rising and chest expanding, and put out a hand. It stopped in front of Steve's face. Steve waited, then scooted forwards.</p><p>No claws, thank God. Billy's fingertips brushed over his whole face, firmly, prodding at times. Was his eyesight worse? It was like he was checking Steve's features, like a blind person on TV. Maybe, this whole time, Billy hadn't been sure who he was with. Their voices hadn't changed ... which wouldn't matter if he couldn't remember what they'd sounded like. A year alone wouldn't be enough to forget all that, but a year in a weird magic dimension? Who knew?</p><p>"Hey," Steve said. Billy ducked his head to peer inside his mouth. It must be a <em>really</em> weird magic dimension. "You, uh ... you want some?" He held out the chocolate.</p><p>Billy pushed it back towards his mouth. Steve ate. And then Billy took it and nipped a corner of the chocolate bar off, a tiny point of it, and immediately set it back in Steve's hand.</p><p>His first friendly sign since he came back? Probably. Dustin was going to be proud.</p><p>"I wouldn't poison you," Steve said. His voice came out weirdly soft. This was supposed to be <em>that total dick Hargrove</em>, and yet he was being brusque but careful, and still gripping Steve's hand as he rolled the taste of 3 Musketeers around his mouth. "You can have the rest."</p><p>He pushed it at Billy, gentle, and after long moments of gauging him, Billy took it and kept it. His other hand came up after another few bites and he rested the fingertips on Steve's hand. The touch was cold, trembling for a while.</p><p>Steve didn't dare move, Not yet. He did wish he could.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He made up for it: That night when he finally went to bed, he could watch the darkness well up and draw closer - and he did just watch, because with it, haltingly, came Billy. It followed him, clinging, foggy, filmy ... Steve saw a swirl of it become part of what had looked like a bruise on his face, spreading and making his eyes look brighter than ever.</p><p>Those used to be blue. He remembered that, suddenly, from Billy making it his mission to get so damned up close and personal. They should be blue.</p><p>Billy swiped the darkness away from his face - it moved to the back of his hand. There was still less of it now, the light coming in through Steve's window keeping shadows in corners where they belonged.</p><p>There was less still as Billy crept his way up Steve's bed. It was almost like he was exaggerating how to be stealthy, and Steve thought back to crawling into girls' beds when their families were awake elsewhere in the house. With the way Billy was staring at him, ardent as he'd been earlier, this should feel uncomfortable. Instead he made room on the bed, pulling the bedclothes out from under Billy so he'd be able to settle down properly.</p><p>Far more than anything else, it was a relief. Why worry about normality, at this point? He smiled as most of the dark was left behind at the foot of the bed to fade away, took a breath, and then turned the smile to Billy. He wanted to show he meant his welcome.</p><p>Billy gave him back the predatory look - he even licked his lips. But the way he curled into Steve, the thready sigh he let out as he set his head on the pillow Steve offered, said that he felt relief more than anything else too. Close up this way, out of the obscuring effect of the dark, he felt so much more solid and real. Familiar.</p><p>It wasn't good news to be shared with anyone else. Soon, though, there would be enough to share. Steve figured they were both determined.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>